"Gerard, why are we in a cave again?"
I asked as we entered a crumbling cavern, the sound of our footsteps mixing with the faint crackle of distant fire. The echoes bounced off the jagged walls, creating an eerie, almost grotesque atmosphere.
"Huu~"
Maybe it was the excessive caffeine in my system, but every detail around me seemed unnaturally vivid. The spectral screeching of bats sent a shiver down my spine. Unconsciously, I heightened my senses—a decision I instantly regretted.
Suddenly, I could perceive every living thing within the cavern. Crawling, fluttering entities with innumerable limbs and razor-sharp mandibles surrounded us, their forms shifting in the shadows. It was the kind of nightmare no one would ever want to be caught in, especially when imagination—fueled by fear—runs wild.
"Kyaa!"
With an unintentional karate chop, I squawked in panic, flailing at the air.
••••••
Minutes later, I found myself walking through a narrow passage, my face buried in my palm out of sheer embarrassment. Meanwhile, Gerard remained composed, his expression unreadable. I focused instead on the faint glow emanating from the top of his cane, its light flickering with every step we took through the tunnel. It was strangely fascinating.
"We were supposed to rely on our senses. I had no choice but to use light," Gerard remarked.
"Sorry," I muttered before changing the subject. "That's pretty cool, though. Where's the button?"
He smirked slightly but didn't answer. Instead, he gestured toward the cave wall, where ancient parietal art was etched in faded hues. The paintings depicted a man and a woman at the center of a lush garden, connected to a web of diverse life forms and towering trees inside what looked like a floating, atmospheric bubble.
"Have you heard of Adam and Eve?"
"Yeah…"
I knew the story well. Though I identified as agnostic—neither fully believing nor outright denying the existence of a higher power—religious myths were familiar to me.
"Good," Gerard said. "A man and a woman created by God to live in paradise, given just one rule." He raised a single finger.
"The apple?" I guessed.
"Exactly. They were warned not to eat from the biggest trees in the middle of the garden, nor even to touch them—lest they die."
I wasn't sure where this conversation was headed, but as I studied the ancient mural, my eyes caught another figure—a man, distinct from Adam, surrounded by wild animals. Unlike prey or predator, the creatures seemed to gather around him in harmony.
"There's another guy here."
Gerard nodded. "That's Adam."
I blinked. "Wait… then who's this?" I pointed at the figure standing next to the woman at the center.
"A once-glorified angel. The seal of perfection. One of the first creations."
"No way," I muttered.
Gerard simply stared at me, expression neutral. I wasn't entirely surprised, but something about the revelation made me uneasy. Trying to lighten the mood, I smirked.
"But if we're talking about the version I know… isn't he supposed to be a snake?"
"He is," Gerard confirmed, his cane subtly gesturing between the two figures.
"God created them—Eve for Adam, and Adam for Eve. Hm~?"
I mulled it over, then frowned as I pieced together the implications. It almost felt like a neighborhood gossip session.
"Oh no… Adam, my guy… you got played!"
Gerard chuckled. "It's not like that."
"Yeah?"
"Creation follows a pattern. From emptiness comes darkness, from darkness comes light, spreading across the sky. Drought turns soil fertile, allowing life to flourish. And a body of water… becomes the very essence of existence."
He hesitated—just for a heartbeat—then, without warning, lunged and clamped his hand around my wrist.
White-hot agony detonated through my arm.
I didn't even get the chance to scream before the pain overwhelmed everything. My muscles locked. My vision fractured. Beneath my skin, something ancient and unnatural convulsed, throbbing like it had been waiting—starving—to be awakened.
Then it erupted.
A surge of molten fire ripped through tendon and bone, clawing up my arm like a living inferno. My skin blistered from the inside out. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the pitch of my agony.
"F-Fucking h—! AAHH! AAHHHH!"
I howled. I shattered. The sound wasn't just mine anymore—it was elemental, tearing through the cavern like a banshee's wail. The earth trembled. Stone cracked. Creatures fled, squealing, as if the very world recoiled from whatever had just been unleashed inside me.
Then—
Silence.
The pain vanished, leaving behind a hollow shell where my body used to be. I collapsed, twitching, gasping like a drowning man breaking the surface. Shards of radiant light scattered from my wrist, swirling in the air like ash from a dying star.
"What the…?"
My words barely made it past the rasp in my throat before everything twisted.
The cavern peeled away like smoke on the wind.
Now I stood—no, floated—in a vast, open field, the sky impossibly wide above. And from it hung a colossal structure of ice and stone, an inverted mountain suspended in the clouds like a forgotten god's monument. It radiated cold and awe.
"What the hell is—"
"Hwa—!"
I spun. Gerard was beside me—blinking in and out of existence like a bad signal. I looked down and nearly retched. My own body was glitching, insubstantial, skin flickering like static on a broken screen.
"Seriously?" I groaned. "What now?"
I didn't even have the energy to panic anymore. The rules of reality had clearly clocked out.
"We're inside a story," Gerard said calmly. "One already written."
"The Adam and Eve story?"
"Shh."
His hand didn't go to my mouth. It just pointed.
Not to hide us, but to make me see.
From the haze ahead, a woman walked straight through me—her body ethereal, unknowable, yet heartbreakingly familiar. I reached for her instinctively, hand outstretched, but my fingers distorted, passing through her like vapor in the wind.
"We can't interfere," Gerard said, voice barely above a whisper. "We are echoes, watching echoes."
I stared after her, heart pounding.
"That's her?"
"Indeed."
My mind swirled with a thousand questions, but as I observed Adam and Eve, something else caught my eye—something that made me squint in confusion.
"What on earth is Adam doing?"
Gerard let out a small chuckle, stroking his beard as he explained.
"Boys will be boys, I suppose. Even in our world, children are drawn to different things. Boys gravitate towards toy guns, action figures, and cars, while girls cherish their dolls as if they were their own children."
His words made sense. Even in the timeless Garden of Eden, Eve had begun to mature. Adam, however, was still busy playing with his animal friends, barely paying her any attention.
In the vastness of paradise, brimming with life, one simple truth remained unchanged:
"What makes happiness so potent is its ability to be shared."
A strange melancholy settled over me. For the first time, I felt an unexpected sense of empathy—an understanding that, even in the beginning, no one was truly free from the burdens of existence.